Losing my favourite game
by Pixeh Pixeh Pixeh
Summary: a fic I wrote after readin "get outta my face and wath me die" by Crow black dream. just kind of how i felt at one point in my life. most of the things that happen to duo happened to me at some point. the door, the hips, th wrists, the palm, the arms, the


Ok, the hardest thing about the making of this fic was deciding which name to put it under. Other than that is has been one of my favourites to write, simply because it was all there, the plot, the idea, the basic structure. I just had to put an overlay on it.  
  
I owe this whole fic to crow black dream. Thanks. You probably don't know it, but you have been an inspiration. When I read 'get outta my face and watch me die' I knew it was the best fic of its length that I had ever read. I couldn't even come close to writing something as good, but I hope I capture the same essence that you did.  
  
I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. All credit goes to the makers of Gundam Wing, The Cardigans for writing 'Losing my favourite game' which is a brilliant song (everyone go out and buy it) and crow black dream.  
  
~* Losing my favourite game *~  
  
Another day, another bandage. There were now thirteen bandages on Duo's body. One on each wrist, one going across his stomach, three on the fingers of his left hand, one on each digit of his right. He had one bandage going across his forehead. The last two were wrapped around his upper left arm and his left palm.  
  
The slicing game had begun by coincidence. Once more feeling the sting of Heero's inability to show affection he had gone into the kitchen. There he had accidentally cut his finger with a knife. But the pain of the steel slicing through his flesh had blocked out the pain of Heero's cool attitude. Lying in bed that night, staring at the blood seeping down his hand, he had known that it was not only the best way, but the only way.  
  
His hips had been the first of his victims, on the night of his birthday he hadn't been able to stand the coldness with which Heero had left the house and gone to visit the Doctors. He soon gave up cutting his hips, as it was hard to walk the next day. The scab repeatedly ripped open as he tried to move his legs. Heero hadn't noticed Duo's pain.  
  
A convenient victim was his fingers. Cut fingers could be explained away. Paper cuts, rope burns. But for precisely that reason they were unsatisfactory targets. If you knew that you could injure yourself accidentally in one place so easily, why do it on purpose?  
  
A more satisfying and invigorating casualty was his stomach. When Heero had seen his body in a flight suit, he had noticed the bandages. But he hadn't inquired as to how they came to be there. The target had to be more public. The bigger and scarier it was, the more pain it got rid of.  
  
He had received the head injury almost by accident, but it turned to his advantage. He had been in the bathroom, and had opened the door wide and then turned to check the mirror. He had turned around and immediately walked forward. The door had automatically half shut and he had walked straight into the edge. The high lock had gorged a scar in his forehead, and blood seeped through that bandage for a week. But this injury held the same problems the finger cuts. The physical pain worked on the emotional pain like a quick painkiller, removing the short-term symptom, but not the long-term cause.  
  
So he had gone to work on his arms. He would sit up at night, drinking whisky yet not getting drunk. Such was the misfortunate side effects of having to control your body from a younger age. So while he drank the whisky that might as well have been water for the effect it held, he would take a knife in between shots and slice a gash in his arm. Shot, slice, shot, slice. It was a pattern that worked well. While he downed a shot of whisky he would listen to he wind outside, and watch the blood seep down his arm, catching in his elbow and swirling down to his palm.  
  
It was the movement of the blood that led him to his palm. Carving a deep mark into the flesh, cutting short love and heart and life lines. Quite a bit of blood flowed before he passed out on the floor. Quatre helped him to the A&E the next day, saying something about the things he did for friendship. Duo felt nothing but gratitude for the platinum haired Arabian, but he wished it had been Heero.  
  
Finally, one winter night when Heero had once again snubbed the American, Duo calmly went into the bathroom and picked up a razor. He sat on the edge of the bath and pressed the cool metal into his skin. It bit down, marking the skin. Duo lifted it and admired the small beads of red liquid beginning to form there. He knew Heero was in the room before he felt the cold metal against his temple and heard the Japanese pilot cock the trigger.  
  
**I don't know what you're looking for  
  
You haven't found it baby, that's for sure  
  
You rip me off, you spread me all around**  
  
"Put the blade down."  
  
"Bite me." Ha, thought Duo. He really thinks he can be the hero of the story now. Too late now though.  
  
"Put it down. There is no honour or gain in your actions."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Omae o-"  
  
"Korosu? You're gonna kill me?" Duo laughed. "Why do you think that's a threat? Are you stupid? I mean, I knew you were stupid, but god Heero. I'm here slitting my wrists and you're threatening to kill me. Get a fucking clue, will you?"  
  
**And this is no case of lust you see  
  
It's not a matter of you versus me**  
  
Heero faltered and lowered the gun to his side. He had not expected resistance. The plan was simple. Go in, threaten death, save victim. It was standard. But if victim wasn't afraid of death, that made everything a teeny tiny bit harder.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't fucking know. My life is screwed up. I mean, I'm never gonna grow up and become an office worker or a normal person. Heero, we are the fucking lost children. We have no future. What are we going to be doing when we're twenty? Fighting someone else's war. What about when we're thirty? The same? What about forty, fifty, sixty? We are too old too fight. All we can do is become like the doctors, building machines so that another group of children can have no future. It's fucking fucked up." Duo looked down again and pressed the blade into his left wrist.  
  
** Its fine the way you want to be on your own  
  
But in the end its always me alone**  
  
"You're lying."  
  
"Ok, I am. So shoot me." Duo laughed. If Heero thought he was telling him the truth, well, he was obviously really, really, really stupid.  
  
Heero once again put the gun to Duo's face. It was now digging into the flesh above his jawbone. Heero hoped that if it were uncomfortable enough, Duo would be distracted. No such luck.  
  
"You idiot. You have a standard plan of action, and if you come up against anything that doesn't fit, you don't know what to do. " Duo stopped, thinking sadly. "You used to be able to deal with anything." He continued to press the blade down. Now a steady trickle was released from each wrist, and the wounds were starting to sting, but the wounds weren't big enough to gush blood.  
  
** I'm losing my favourite game  
  
You're losing your mind again  
  
I'm losing my baby, losing my favourite game**  
  
"Ah, I see. This whole, thing" he waved the gun in the direction of Duo's various injuries " is to get me back on task. To make me think of what our mission is. I see."  
  
"I see said the blind man, but he didn't see at all. You ego fucking maniac. I'm not cutting myself up to make you a better person. That's just a sacrifice a little too big." Now Duo was just pissed off.  
  
**I only know what I've been working for  
  
I know you so I could love you more  
  
I really thought that I could take you there  
  
But... nice terming - is not getting us anywhere**  
  
"Then tell me why." He continued to press the cold metal into duo face.  
  
"No. But I will help you in your obvious goal." Very carefully, Duo placed his mouth over the tip off the gun. He bit down on it gently. "Shoot me. Go on. Shoot me."  
  
"Omae o korosu."  
  
** I had a vision I could turn you right  
  
A stupid mission and a legal fight  
  
I should have seen it when my hope was new  
  
My heart is black and my body is blue**  
  
"Fuck, you. "  
  
** And I'm losing my favourite game**  
  
Duo snatched the gun from Heero has as quick as lightning. He removed it from his mouth and put it to his temple. He leaned backward so that he was over the bath. He could feel the blood trickling down his arms from his wrists.  
  
** You're losing your mind again**  
  
"Tell me one thing. Are you willing to save me? Willing to risk your emotionless composure to save my life?"  
  
** I'm losing my favourite game  
  
You're losing your mind again**  
  
Heero hesitated. That was all Duo needed.  
  
** I'm losing my baby, losing my favourite game  
  
I'm losing my favourite game (losing my favourite)  
  
You're losing your mind again (I try)  
  
I try but you're still the same (I try)**  
  
"That's a no then. Buh bye." Duo pulled the trigger, not bothering to close his eyes. He want Heero to feel his accusing glance even after he had died.  
  
The bullet travelled through his temple, tore through his brain and came out his other temple. Duo was an excellent marksman, and the bullet imbedded itself in the tiles over the bath. Heero couldn't help but stare at the Americans still body, lying spread-eagled in the bath, eyes still open. As he turned to leave the room, the splattered blood began it's slow journey down the tiles.  
  
** I'm losing my baby, losing my favourite game  
  
I'm losing my favourite game (losing my favourite)  
  
You're losing your mind again (I try)  
  
I try but you're still the same (I try)  
  
I'm losing my baby**  
  
**You're losing a saviour and saint** 


End file.
